Shannon Costello

Finally, a taste of National Velvet in real life!

Actually, my real life experience with jumping horses consists of driving past a farm and not being able to watch because, of course, I’m driving.  Frustrating.

Well, at the Grand Prix I finally got to watch, and watch, and watch.

It’s neat watching large, heavy animals leap over fences.  Occasionally they would knock down a rail, or clip it so it wobbled ominously.  But sometimes they just soared right over and an admiring murmer would go up from the spectators.

I liked seeing the light glint off their horse shoes as they galloped around the field.  My experience of horses is 99.9% books, so there’s almost an “aha” moment when I see that, yes, horses actually do wear horse shoes.

I even enjoyed the lack of emotion in the whole event.  Maybe the English style of riding catches something from the sort of British, upper-class self control one reads of in novels.  The riding jackets and pack of fox hounds (but no fox!) reminded me of that.  I didn’t see any rider look anything but calm and in command, even on the victory gallop at the end.